Fascination
by ThatRosieSparkle
Summary: Snatched moments in public places. Draco/Harry
1. Elevation

**A/N: Just a little one****shot to stop me going insane. Maybe the first in a series. Maybe not. Enjoy!**

Elevation

"Harry!"

Draco's lithe body squirmed as one of Harry's strong arms wound its way around his thin waist. "Someone will see us."

"Ever the voice of reason, Draco," sighed Harry, defeated, yet he did not let go of the former Slytherin.

A light dinged on over the other side of the small, box-like cubicle they were in and the pair sprung apart.

"Morning, Harry," mumbled Ron cheerfully through a mouthful of toast. "Malfoy," he acknowledged distastefully with a nod. Swallowing, the flame-haired intruder continued, "I'm just on my way down to the Department of Mysteries. Parkinson wasn't 'entirely satisfied' with my report on those vampires acting up in Albania." Draco raised an eyebrow. "Not much to say as far as I'm concerned really," concluded Ron, wiping his crumb covered hands on his robes.

"Indeed," agreed Harry, face full of sincerity.

The light dinged again as a cool voice announced, "Level Nine, Department of Mysteries."

"Here goes nothing," muttered the freckled man as he exited the lift, "wish me luck."

"Good luck, mate," grinned Harry.

As the elevator doors clanged shut once more, Draco hit Harry playfully on the arm. "For crying out loud, can you not keep your hands off me for two seconds?"

"Absolutely not," declared Harry, causing Draco to preen slightly through his exasperation, "you are far too delicious, Draco Malfoy."

Draco rolled his eyes and pretended to gag, "and you are a hopeless romantic, Potter. I hope you are thoroughly ashamed of yourself."

"You love it really, Dray," and a wicked grin flashed across Harry's handsome, tanned face.

"Oh please," argued Draco, but he was interrupted by yet another dinging light.

"This is me," said Harry, looking slightly dejected. The lift doors rattled open and Harry went to kiss Draco on the cheek, only to be stopped by a long, slender finger pointed at his face.

"You dare, Potter," hissed the blond.

"Oh, I forgot, not in public," Harry corrected himself, sounding thoroughly unenthusiastic about the whole matter. "'Til tonight, my love," he whispered dramatically, "Farewell," and his cloaked form twirled, disappearing down the corridor.

Draco pressed a thin, white finger to one of the many golden buttons as the elevator doors closed again. "Idiot," he smiled fondly to himself.

**Get it? The title? I'm so clever with words… Tell me what you think and whether I should continue with bits of fluff like this. Apparently I can only do happy Draco/Harry for a few hundred words before having to revert back to overly dramatic relationship angst.**

**Go! Review!**


	2. Situation

**A/N: Second in the series! This isn't really linked at all to the first "chapter", it is merely a continuation of a theme (and subsequently story). They are both solitary pieces of fluff but are in the same style and use the same Harry and Draco. Enjoy!**

Situation

"Well I think… but maybe… wait, if I… hang on…"

Harry stood hunched over a piece of parchment in the middle of a darkening street, chuntering to himself. Draco was huddled by a lamppost a few feet from him, in full sulk mode. His steely grey eyes glinted menacingly, his slender arms firmly crossed over his chest. "I'm cold, Harry."

"Yes," Harry waved half-heartedly in the blond's direction, not once taking his eyes off the piece of parchment he was studying.

"Harry, it's wet and I'm freezing. Why aren't we going anywhere?" Draco stamped his foot to emphasise the point.

"I can't find… where we're going… or… maybe… hang on…" Harry's stilted reply was far from comforting.

"It is a map for Christ's sake. It cannot be that hard to read, Harry."

Despite Harry's previous promises that finding their own way to the party would be half the fun, Draco's initial attempt at enthusiasm was rapidly mutating into a particularly virulent form of exasperation. He angrily thrust a pale hand into his jacket pocket and produced a second piece of paper from which he read: "'You are cordially invited _blah blah blah _the hall is situated at 12 Baker's street, North London and can be reached by floo powder, portkey, broomstick or apparition.' No-one else is walking there, Harry."

Harry paused in the middle of rotating the piece of parchment, "But I wanted to see London, Dray. We've had a great day, face it, and now you're just bitching because your feet are tired. Besides, I think we're almost there," he added triumphantly.

"You think?" Draco narrowed his eyes and glared at his boyfriend across the cobbled street, "Do you actually have the faintest idea of where we are?"

Harry looked at his feet sheepishly, "Well, not exactly…"

Draco threw his hands in the air and spun on the spot dramatically through frustration. "So we're lost, yes?" he demanded.

"Well, not completely… or maybe… just a little bit," Harry wilted under Draco's piercing stare. "Yes, we're lost," he admitted.

"Thank you," muttered Draco, crossing the street, "you are a complete prat, Harry."

"Gee thanks," exclaimed the raven-haired man, "it's really nice to know you care."

Draco smiled and wrapped his arms around Harry's thickly clad waist, slipping his freezing hands into the former Gryffindor's back pockets. "You know I do."

"Fine," Harry agreed, snaking his own arms around Draco and pulling him closer. "There's still the issue of getting to the party, though," he added as Draco brought his face nearer to Harry's own.

"Or," Draco ventured, stopping to kiss Harry gently on the lips, "we could go home." His tongue found Harry's and they got lost in each other, fiery passion cutting through the cold. Draco pulled away, "I am awfully tired," he pouted.

Harry grinned, "We'd better get you to bed then." His hand wound itself into Draco's silken hair as they sank back into the kiss and, with a pop, disappeared from the misty, lamp-lit street.

**Yet another ingenious title. I do love fluff. More angst on its way! Expect more of this aussi, though.**

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	3. Provocation

**A/N: More fluff! Enjoy!**

Provocation

"Really?" Draco snorted into his emerald scarf and glanced incredulously at his boyfriend through frosty platinum hair.

Harry grinned. "Sure, why not?" he asked, starting to cross the road.

Draco grabbed Harry's arm and hauled him back. "Because I look like a tramp, Harry, that's why."

"Draco, you could never look like a tramp," declared Harry, "You positively ooze class."

"I am not going in there, Harry," Draco persisted, "That, in case you had forgotten, is _the_ most expensive restaurant in town. Great first impression we'd make! Look at us! At the moment we look more suited to that awful pub full of hags we made the mistake of going to once. I have just spent the entire day feeding chickens at you friend's 'house' and pretending to enjoy it: I am not in the mood."

Harry's face snapped into a scowl. "Well I'm hungry, Draco, and I'm having dinner here. Feel free to join me or not," he quipped, turning on his heel and making again for the impressive oak doors.

Draco rolled his eyes and hurried after him. "Well for Christ's sake at least sort your hair out."

"Is that all you ever think about?" Harry asked, obviously annoyed, "Your appearance?"

"Our appearance, love," corrected Draco.

Harry pushed on one of the doors and strode into the soft glow of the restaurant. "In case you'd forgotten, Draco," he hissed, "We are Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy. They are not going to refuse to let us in."

"That is not the attitude to have," muttered Draco vehemently as an obsequious waiter took their cloaks and lead them to a table by the window.

As soon as he sat down, Harry picked up the menu and studied it carefully, fully absorbed in the overly flamboyant descriptions of each extravagant dish. Over the top of the piece of card, however, he could see Draco shooting fervent glances at the other diners, nervously brushing his hair out of his eyes. "Lighten up, Dray," he said, smiling, "No-one's going to think any less of you because you don't look quite as impeccably stunning as you usually do."

Draco glared across the candlelit expanse of polished wood between them. "But if they do, I'm blaming you."

His lopsided grin melting into a frown, Harry replied, "You can't be _that_ bothered, Dray, come on."

"There's nothing wrong with taking pride in your appearance, Harry," said Draco, affronted, as the waiter poured each of them a glass of wine. "You and I have obviously had very different upbringings," he drawled, reaching a pale hand towards his goblet and taking a long draught.

Harry stared at him, aghast. "And what is that supposed to mean?" he demanded, impatiently waving away the waiter who was now hovering at his shoulder in an attempt to take down his order.

Draco quirked an eyebrow over the crystal which was tipped again towards his mouth. Lowering the glass, he stated, "Well, the Weasleys aren't exactly what you'd call sophisticated now, are they?"

"You are such a snob," spat Harry, grabbing a breadstick.

"_Quelle surprise_," Draco exclaimed in mock horror, "I thought you knew what you were letting yourself in for when you plunged so readily into this relationship."

"So did I," murmured Harry into his red wine.

Draco looked hurt. "Oh yes? And what was that?" he questioned.

"Well I knew you were vain, selfish and arrogant, but I though we could work past that," Harry threw at him waspishly. "Evidently I was wrong," he said with malice, nonchalantly snapping his grissini in half.

Draco turned white. "Well _I_ knew you were a self-righteous, puffed-up wonder child, but I thought you'd grown out of it," he snarled back, voice dripping with venom, "evidently I was also wrong in that respect." He turned, calmly, to the timid waiter beside him and placed his order with a smile, then glared at Harry as if to challenge him to do the same.

Flustered, Harry asked for the steak and patiently answered the waiter's necessary questions: yes, they'd like a bottle of water; no, they didn't want anything else quite yet, thanks; no, he wouldn't be needing any additional sauces; and yes, Draco would like some more wine. As the waiter hurried away, Harry fixed Draco with a harsh look. "And there I was thinking you could change."

Draco laughed coldly, "Who's to say I ever wanted to?" Harry faltered. "Exactly. There's no point in trying to fix something that isn't broken, Harry."

Harry's brow was furrowed. "I'm not trying to fix you," he said, defensively.

"Really?" Draco asked, feigning surprise, "You could have fooled me." He fingered his goblet, looking downcast.

Harry nibbled his breadstick as an uneasy silence settled between the pair. Draco watched as the candle sank lower, flickering in a light draft from the window, until their meals arrived. The interruption seemed to jolt Harry out his reverie. When the waiter left them alone once more, Harry poked at his meat and said sheepishly, "I don't want to change you, Dray."

Glancing up from his carbonara, Draco made a small sound of disbelief and reached yet again for the wine.

"I mean it, Dray," Harry persisted quietly, "I must've fallen in love with you for a reason," he pointed out.

Draco let out a tentative chuckle, locking his deep grey eyes with the sparkling emerald ones opposite. "I am ridiculously good-looking."

Harry laughed. "And modest."

"And," added Draco, eyes flashing with mischief, "fantastic in bed."

Midway through a drink of water, Harry spluttered, flushing wildly.

"Don't be so embarrassed, Harry," Draco teased, "It's only natural to want to shag me senseless."

Harry's cheeks burned. "Shh," he chided, "this is _the_ most expensive restaurant in town, in case you'd forgotten."

"How common of me," Draco drawled, his slender fingers leaving his wine glass and finding their way onto Harry's thigh, "I do apologise."

Harry bristled in response to the gesture and shot his boyfriend a look across the table, to which Draco merely slid his hand further up Harry's leg and demanded, "Can't you eat any quicker, Potter?"

Glancing down at Draco's clean plate and feeling his skilled fingers tighten their grip, Harry wolfed down the remainder of his meal and the two had called the waiter over, paid, and left together within a matter of minutes.

**I'm loving these titles. This was written last night at 2:00am, so I apologise if it's a bit skew-whiff. **

**I quite like it though. Tell me what you think.**

**Go! Review!**


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